Making sense of the mess (open)

[Grace de Beaumont]

Waddling awkwardly across the shop floor, Grace lugged a large crock of ginger root knobs in a placement she thought was more accessible. It would also allow her to sweep under the old spot, and by the looks of the ring of dust around it, that particular activity hadn't occurred in that part of the shop in years.

Wiping her hands on her apron, Grace stretched a little, hand on the small of her back and looked around. The place looked a little better, even if she did say so herself. The bundle of moldy yarrow had been removed, setting her off into a sneezing fit, as had several other bundles of comfrey, knotgrass, larkspur, and sticklewort. The wall of tiny drawers supposed to contain different dried and process herbs was a disaster; Grace found mouse droppings in many, and nests in two of them. Wonder if I can talk the old codger into getting a cat?

Something scuttled across Grace's boot and she yelped, jumping backwards, then grimaced as she watched the back end of a mouse scuttling away. "Definitely need a cat," she grumbled aloud, and reached again for the broom.

[Henry Renold]

Henry pushed open the door of the little shop awkwardly, stumbling over the step as he did so. He hated having to come all the way out to the city to fetch his herbs, especially seeing as he only ever bought the poisonous ones, but it was the only place that sold the ones he needed.

Today he was after 3 different ingredients, for a toxic solution he would use on his blades. It needed to be potent, but be untraceable in the way it killed and so he would only need one dangerous ingredient. Of course, any one who really knew their herbs would be able to identify what the three could be used for, but he hoped that he might find an assistant who had not yet gained a full working knowledge.
Luckily for Henry (or so he thought), a young lady stood sweeping the floor on the other side of the shop and instantly he knew she would be todays target.

"Good morning!" He smiled brightly, hoping she might not notice the grubby clothes he wore, or his dirt smeared face. He didn't want her to realise he was a slum dweller, and even worse a member of the Brotherhood.
"I've just come to collect my masters herbs for him. He's hard at work in the fields today, but I've been given half an hour off!" He grinned and dropped a small coin purse on the counter. Perhaps she would believe he was a farm hand.

[Grace de Beaumont]

Well, this was an odd turn of events. In two days since she'd taken employ at The Apothecary Shop, she'd yet to see a customer yet. In her private moments, Grace wondered how Bush actually made his living. It was awkward luck that the first customer came when when the stodgy old owner was out.

"Uh.... uh..... mornin' yerself," Grace stammered, making an awkward bob of her head. From his clothes, the lad looked like a farmer, much taller than herself but probably not much older. He had a pleasant, friendly face and Grace felt herself relaxing. " 'M sorry but the owner, he 'as stepped out....." She stifled a snort -- Bush had gone for his midday repast quite some time ago. Grace suspected he was sleeping on a table in a tavern.

There was no time like the present to continue her new career disguise as a shopgirl, and tried a tentative, dimpled smile. "I've not been 'ere long, but mayhap I can help you?"

[Henry Renold]

Henry beamed as the girl offered to try to help, but it wasn't all because of her kindness. Most of his happiness was due to the fact that he had managed to fool her with his disguise.

"I hope so!" He replied, keeping up the pretense, "My master will scold me something rotten if I return without these ingredients. The first is coffee beans, do you have any?"
The coffee bean was a common remedy for tiredness, but mixed with ginseng it could cause chronic dysentery within half an hour. He hoped the girl wasn't aware of that as he placed his second order.
"And finally I need apple cider vinegar..." He said looking around at jars in nearby shelves. The vinegar was a common ingredient in cooking no less, but with those two previous ingredients, it was deadly.

"And thats it!" He smiled again, slamming his list down on the counter. "I hope I have the right ones..."

The girl looked a little bit worried, or so Henry thought. She had said she was new so maybe that that was the reason- or then again maybe Henry had just misjudged her expression as he so often did.
He found it comforting to find someone who had peasant roots in the store, as so many of the merchants in Camelot were rich, arrogant old sods. But this girl was friendly and Normal and he welcomed it gladly.

[Grace de Beaumont]

Relaxing further, Grace smiled in encouragement. "You've a master as well, eh? A real bother, tain't they! An' you're in luck.... I know we have the beans 'cause I just unpacked a box of sundries just come from th' coast come all the way from Abyssinia yesterday. One moment, if'n y' please...."

Circling around the counter, Grace searched the back and returned shortly, thumping a wooden box on the rough-hewn table to the side. The lid was already loose, inside stuffed with assorted bundles wrapped in cloth. Scratchings in charcoal provided labels for each.

Brow furrowed in concentration, Grace read off each as she removed them. "Let's see..... tamerind, negro pepper, cumin, coriander, mango seeds...coffee beans!" Triumphant, Grace untied the bundle, spreading the cloth carefully to not spill the contents. A fist-sized pile of small black beans spilled gently into view.

She frowned. "How many d' ya need? I'm not sure if Master Bush ordered these for a reason, an' thereby be needin' the whole lot, or if he would miss a few beans...?" Her finger poked at the pile uncertainly, hoping it was the latter. If this customer needed the pile and she sold them without permission, it could greatly displease Bush. Grace didn't like being cuffed by the old man; he wasn't very strong, but he knew just the right place on her ears to smack to make her wince.

[Henry Renold]

"Erm no I only need a couple. I mean- I think that's all my master needs...If not I'll come back!" His smile wavered slightly as he realised the mistake he had made, but he hoped that he made a swift enough recovery.
In truth he only needed half of a bean, for crushed it would be potent enough to mix with the gand cause the horrific illness that would seem like the cause of death.

He looked back up at the shop assistant and pointed a a row of jars across one of the stores walls.
"Are any of those the vinegar?" HE enquired, hoping that they had some for it was the vital killer ingredient. Grace seemed like a nice girl from first impressions and Henry particularly liked her accent, which was so down to earth and nothing like the other merchants who carried airs and graces that Henry detested. He would definitely be coming here to buy as much as he could from now on if it meant he could avoid the pompous nobles.

He played with the cord that tied his purse of coins shut nervously and waited for the answer.

[Grace de Beaumont]

Feeling relief, Grace two exactly two coffee beans from the pile, wrapped them carefully in a small bit of cloth and tucked the rest away. She set the tiny bundle before the young man, wondering why he'd gotten a funny look on his face. Perhaps she'd done something wrong....?

Glancing over her shoulder in the direction of the lad's finger. "Them? No.... those be all tonics an' purifiers, some of th' cheaper elixirs. Things himself says are most popular." Strolling to the shelves, Grace made a great show of wiping her finger along a bottle to show the dust and added dryly, "Ver-r-ry popular. No, the spirits an' vinegars are down below, hidden away fer some reason...."

Her blond head disappeared as Grace knelt to rummage behind the counter. Several rattles and scrapings later, she gave a muffled cry of triumph before emerging with a wooden flat of compartmentalized smaller bottles. " 'ere we are. I knew it were somethin' I come across when dusting." Pulling out individual bottles one by one, Grace read them off. "Tincture of iodine, blood elixir, monkshood elixir....oi, y' don't want that, it's poison, see? Little skull and bones drawn on. Spirit of nitre, spirit of vitriol, spirit of vinegar.... Say, is that something like what you want?"

Before allowing the man to answer, Grace looked at the other bottles. "Balsamic vinegar.... ah ha!" She held one small bottle up to the light, the weak brown-orange liquid visible inside. "Apple cider vinegar.... says so right there. An' we have three drams so as you can 'ave one and not drain us of tha' last bit." Wrapping the small bottle carefully in a thicker cloth so it wouldn't break in transport, Grace set it before him as well.

"That'll be one sovereign an' two coppers. Sorry but.... th' vinegar is a bit pricey.... says so on the side o' the box." She tried a helpful smile; perhaps being a shopkeeper wasn't such a bad job after all. "Is there anythin' else?"

[Henry Renold]

Henry watched as the girl placed two beans carefully into a small piece of rag and tied it up neatly. He was amazed at how quick her fingers worked, it was really fascinating to see, he pocketed the bundle, and and listened as the girl described the bottle and potions on the back shelf. In his honest opinion nothing in the shop looked as though it was "popular", everything was covered with a thick layer of dust, in fact the assistant stood out brightly in the dim room.

She disappeared for a few seconds, her blond head bobbing up every now and again as she placed more bottles on the counter. All of them looked as though they had been used very little, for all of them were full or very close. Of course the shop could have been fiddling its customers and mixing them with water, but Grace didn't look like the dishonest type to Henry. Eventually he heard a muffled cheer and she appeared completely with a tray of tiny bottles in hand.

"Thats it!" He smiled as she eventually found the vinegar he needed. "I'm glad you have it, its one of the most important...as far as i know!" He added quickly. "No worries about the price, after all its not my money!" He wished it wasn't as his coin supply was going to be seriously depleted after this buy, but sadly he had no master and he wasn't a farm hand.

He counted the coins out on the counter and then asked for the ginseng he needed.
"I think he only needs one root, and not necessarily a large one either!" He tipped the final few coins out and found he had only 3 coppers left over. Praying silently to himself that the ginseng root would cost no more, he folded his arms and leant back against a nearby display rack.

[Grace de Beaumont]

Flushing lightly with pride at having done things correctly so far, Grace returned the young man's cheeky smile with a dimpled one of her own. This minding the store stuff would be fairly easy if all her customers were as agreeable!

"Ginseng.... ginseng..... it's a root, y' said?" The name sounded terribly exotic, so Grace went to the spice drawers to the far side, an area little used. A bit of searching later, she pulled out a drawer and brought it to the counter. The knobby, stringy roots inside were a sorry lot; of the twelve pale roots inside, seven were moldy, one had grubs partially devouring it, and the others appeared undersized. Grace held up a smallish one that seemed intact. When she looked to the side of the drawer to search out the price, her eyes bugged out.

"Heavens! That price can't be right.... for a lump of ol' near-rotten roots? Tha's close t' thievery!" Grace bit her lip in thought, came to an internal decision and hastily wrapped the one good root in another little bit of cloth. "There..... it'll be our little secret, eh?" She beamed as she packed the other roots away, arranging the drawer so it didn't look like it was missing anything.

Returning, Grace pushed the small bundle into the lad's hands before she could change her mind, feeling a little breathless for her daring. "I'll swear ya t' silence, good sir, on your honour so tha' neither of us'll get in t' trouble. Shall we make a pact?" Laying her hand out, Grace wrinkled her nose into a grin. "My name is Grace, an' I most solemnly swear I'' ne'er speak o' this incident to anyone."

It was a silly bit of business, all done in good fun but in truth, this stranger could turn her indiscretion over to her new employer, and Grace would be out of a job. She had no idea why she was being so daring, but something in this man's face made her want to trust him.

[Henry Renold]

Henry choked back a gag as the smell of the drawer reached his nose. How had anyone managed to leave it so long that the roots had rotted? Grace didn't seem the type, after all she had been cleaning only when he arrived, so that meant it was most likely the owner of the shop. Not a very enthusiastic one it seemed, where was he anyway?

Henry stared at Grace as she offered to waive the price of the ginseng. Nobody had ever shown him kindness like this and he barely knew whether to accept or laugh at the idea. Was it usual to accept or just polite to offer?
He stuttered a reply of "Are you sure?" and blushed scarlet, not knowing if that was right. Still, she pushed the bundle into his hands and he pocketed it, not wanting to look as though he was unused to niceties.

The next thing he knew she was making some kind of deal with him. She laid her hand out and began to swear a type of oath. Henry copied her gesture and repeated her words with his own name, but he wasn't exactly sure what he was doing. The type of oaths he sword in the brotherhood involved blood and were unbreakable upon punishment of death. This, he assumed, was not that type of oath.

"Why are you doing this for me?" He asked, as he packed the other bundles into various pockets on his person. He kept his eyes down so he didn't have to meet her gaze as he asked.

[Grace de Beaumont]

The young man, Henry, looked flummoxed at her favor -- more than that, downright confused by it. Grace gave him a half-smile as she wiped a cloth across the counter. "Wha's wrong, Henry? You act as if no one's ever been kind t' ya before." Her eyes flickered toward the door, the noise of the street drifting occasionally in, and her voice grew thoughtful. "Out there, tis a cruel world we live in. War, disease, death, as well as treachery, malice..... a hard life. So when there'as a chance t' do somethin' nice...." Grace shrugged, feeling a bit self-conscious. "Well, I jus' felt like doing it, is all. I'm new t' Camelot and could use a.... friend."

The way that came out sounded a bit pathetic, so Grace gave a small laugh. "Besides, if th' going rate for a friend is one small bit o' ginseng root.... well, I call tha' a fair bargain, don't you?" Trying to set Henry at ease, Grace let her voice grow gently teasing. Though he looked to be full grown and a strapping young man, Henry was definitely on the thin side.

"An' anyways, you can take those few coppers you saved from your master's lot, tell him y' paid dearly for the root, an' go by yerself somethin' good to eat! You look like you could do with a bit o' fattening up. Don't your own folk feed y' enough where you're from?"

[Henry Renold]

Henry positively beamed as Grace explained her reasoning for being so kind. He quickly explained that he rarely went shopping and so he wasn't used to discounts or anything of this kind. She seemed to believe his story.
It was strange to think, that after growing up more or less friendless, Henry was now finding friends in the most unlikely places. First he had met Dante after he saw him steal a whetstone and tried to cause a fight and then he had sort of befriended a maid in the castle- although it hadn't turned out so well..and now here he was making friends in disguise!

It all changed though as Grace mentioned his skinny frame. Henry blushed a brighter shade of scarlet than he thought he ever had before, pulled his tunic loose from his belt and shoved his hands in his pockets, hating his figure, gaunt face and entire lifestyle.
"It's not my fault i look like this!" He snapped, his entire demeanour changing in seconds. "How do you think you would look if you had to struggle to feed yourself every night since you were nine?"
Before Grace could speak, he marched out of the tiny shop and slammed the door behind him. He continued stomping his way down the street until he finally managed to bring himself to a halt. Leaning against a stony wall, he closed his eyes and began to think about what had just happened. It wasn't fair of him to snap like that, she hadn't meant anything by it, but Henry couldn't help it sometimes. He had done it with Gill and here he was again.
"Sometime I can be such a fool!" He yelled, kicking the wall.

[Grace de Beaumont]

Finding herself quite speechless at the suddenness of the tirade from Henry, Grace gaped in helpless mortification. She paled at his words; she hadn't meant anything by what she'd said! Richard had tried, in his own succinct way, to explain to her the differences the classes, but she'd no idea that farm-folk were so touchy!

"I.... meant nuthin' by it," she said in a small voice, but Henry had already stormed out. Her brother Edwin had been built much the same as Henry when he was younger, tall and thin, and only when into his second decade had he began to 'fill out'. Grace just thought it was part of growing up, her tease only meant in fun. It was only....

Grace tsked at herself, shaking her head as she returned to her work. Making friends out in the world was proving nigh-on impossible, everyone suspicious of the motives of the other. Perhaps it wasn't the world that was at fault, it was her. Grace stopped scrubbing at bowls, thickly crusted with old medicine mixtures -- "That's it, I need to be more cautious," she murmured aloud, staring into space. "Not so gullible. Need to grow up."

Snorting, she renewed her work with vigor, and after a time, Bush the owner waddled back into the shop grunting something incoherent and disappeared into the back. She didn't hear a word from him until he appeared two hours later for closing. Watching her beneath scowling, bushy eyebrows as she closed and locked the shutters, Bush grudgingly paid her the weeks' wages. Feeling a bit happier at having coin in hand, Grace left into the growing night and returned to her nights' lodgings.

~fin